


Recursion > Reversion > Recursion

by keikei



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Death, Gen, Multiple Universes, Surreal, Universal Destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-05-24 23:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6170149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keikei/pseuds/keikei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mysterious and inexplicable happenings begin to interrupt the mundanity of Rose Lalonde's life. Try as she might to move on from them, they quickly become something she cannot ignore.</p><p>[Cancelled as of 27/01/2017]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Stare Into the Void...

Like the trillions of days before it, the sixteenth of January in the year two thousand and fifteen came into existence without interruption. The light of the apartment had only just been flicked on as the clock rounded to midnight, and the same process that occurred every Friday night began as it always did. Rose Lalonde made a tired but focused stride indoors, tossed aside her coat, and looked at herself in the mirror. She held no particular desire to look decadent and spotless all the time, much less in the comfort of her own home, but she did hold herself to certain standards.

The way her face hung and her hair was mussed and messy made her look as if she’d spent a week with very young, sugar-fueled children. In essence, she did – Friday nights were bar nights, as were the three before it. It was far from the most glamorous of jobs, and Friday nights wrought hell on earth. The place was always packed with people, always loud and obnoxious and at times downright infuriating. Seven hours felt like weeks, as time and again she was shouted at or joked about or subject of any other manner of asinine obscenities.

The other days weren’t as bad, though Rose was by no means enthusiastic of them either. The atmosphere was thankfully less raucous, and she rarely got headaches on these days, but they were a lot more depressing. On these days she had to come face-to-face with the kind of person that gets blackout drunk on a Tuesday evening. There weren’t a lot, but they were there, and they seemed damaged beyond all repair.

Fixing her appearance as much as she could be bothered to, Rose moved inside, picking up a lighter and taking a deep breath in some arcane attempt to relax. The place, despite her best efforts to keep it clean, was a mess. Apartments, she found, just seemed to become sullied naturally. It was certainly a far call from her childhood home – but one has to start their life somewhere, she supposed.

The view from the balcony wasn’t exactly a selling point, littered as it was with apartment complexes and dirty alleyways. Sometimes Rose pined for, well, the sea of pines and quaint rivers of old. She was no environmentalist, but there was something sad (or perhaps disturbing) about how cold and desolate a place the city could be. Still, the breeze carrying the smoke of her cigarette was nice, if a little brisk. Very brisk – really, dangerously so – but she enjoyed it nonetheless. There was something calming about it.

Rose let her mind wander, allowing herself to be taken away. She needed a break. At the risk of sounding entitled, she would say she was far overworked. Having enough money to scrape by was nice, yes, but that isn’t really what she considered living. The writing she got done in her little free time didn’t seem to be going anywhere, and it had felt like so long since she had really seen any of her friends. Truth be told, she felt very lonely. And worse, bored.

Stubbing the cigarette out, yawning, she moved to retire to bed. It was an eight A.M. wake-up on Saturdays, leaving her with next to nothing to do each Friday night. It was something she had come to accept, though there were moments – now being one of them – when she realized this was probably not a good thing. There was nothing that could be done about it, though. Resigning herself to the rigmarole, she collapsed on her bed and quickly fell asleep.

An alarm shook Rose from dreamless sleep, and in an instant she was up without thought. Saturdays (and Mondays) were library days. Unlike the migraine-inducing noise and bustle of the bar, the library was a quiet, and at times frightfully dull, experience. Of her two jobs, though, it was the one she preferred. It was all somewhat therapeutic, giving her the space and time to breathe she so rarely seemed to have.

Her morning routine – washing, eating, whiling away the small amount of free time through reading – always seemed to fade away in a flash. Putting on some approximation of smart clothing, she took one last look at herself before leaving.

Snow had fallen during the previous night – the first snowfall of the year – though it had died down by now. As a result, the streets were quiet in the dim, foggy light of dawn. Chill wind blew through Rose’s hair, sending a shiver running across her. Even if the roads weren’t treacherous, she didn’t know how to drive, leaving her relying on public transport most days. The library wasn’t terribly far away, though, and she arrived before the hour had ended.

There seemed to be no great need for libraries anymore, and as a result Rose spent most of her day there sitting in quiet solitude. So rarely did anyone come by that the only books she really had to pay attention to were her own. It was the perfect environment in which to write. A few times a day, the only other employee in the building – a skinny, timid high school kid who always seemed too shy or intimidated to approach her without stammering – would ask her where to put a book or if he could dust around the table, and perhaps once every day or two a student or academic would come in and ask for something, but apart from those instances, she was alone and free to do as she pleased.

At midday she took a break, stepping outside to stretch her legs for a while. That was the usual plan, at least, but much of the snow had subsided under the rising sun, leaving nothing but dangerously icy paths. Instead she sat upon the stairs, ready to take in the view of the now-bustling city. Her people-watching was quickly interrupted, though, by her phone ringing. Looking down, she smiled faintly as she saw it was her sister calling.

“Why hello there. You’ve caught me at a good time.” Rose placed a cigarette in her mouth, but chose not to light it, simply rolling it around her mouth.

“Oh, you were gonna pick up anyway.” Roxy’s voice was frantic, excited, but still with its usual chirpy intonation. Rose could make out the sound of fast footsteps against wooden ground and deduced that her sister was running.

Folding her legs over, Rose let out a small chuckle. “And how do you suppose that?”

The sound of a large amount of paper being crumpled ran through Rose’s ear for a moment. “Because!” A new sound, that of something crashing to the floor, accompanied Roxy’s voice. “You love talking to me.”  
“Is that so?” When another, louder crash sounded out, Rose’s curiosity peaked. “Roxy, dear, just what the hell are you up to?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m painting!” This was accompanied by the sound of tearing.

“Painting. Right.” Roxy was an artist by trade, yes, but from what Rose could recall, painting never involved the sound of what she suspected was a glass bottle smashing. “Because it sounds like you’re in some kind of bar fight.”

The crashing finally stopped, and only the sound of Roxy’s flustered breath remained. “Yeah, we’re meant to do some sorta... unorthodox exhibition or something. I don’t really get it – but it’s fun!” Rose could hear a door open and a rush of wind blow through. “So, what have YOU been up to?”

There was a vaguely minty flavour to the cigarette filter. “Working, mostly. Nothing I particularly want to be doing – it’s downright soul-crushing, really. I’d say it lets me skate by, but even with two jobs it’s hardly doing that.” She paused. “I’m sorry. That’s probably not what you wanted to hear.”

“No, that’s alright! Better than keeping it all bottled up, right? And! And it’ll make the good news I have for you all the more uplifting.” Rose could practically feel Roxy’s enthusiasm leaking through the speaker. It was utterly infectious – she had to smile.

“Don’t keep me in suspense, then.” She removed the cigarette, now rolling it around between her fingers.

“I...!” Roxy took her time getting to the point, allowing theatrics to take over. “...am coming to stay next week! Let me break up all that boring work stuff for ya.”

Well, this was a surprise. Rose still kept in fairly regular contact with her sister, but it had been a long time since they’d actually seen one another. It did sound exciting, she had to admit; a day spent with Roxy was rarely uneventful, at the very least. Still... “That sounds lovely, Roxy, it really does. The only issue I have is, well... I’m not sure I have enough room to accommodate you.”

“No, no, don’t worry! I’ll find room.”

“I don’t even have a sofa.”

“I’ll bring plenty of pillows! Sleep on the floor. It’ll be fine!”

Shaking her head, Rose couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Well, I don’t think I could stop you if I wanted to. When exactly will you be here, then?”

“I should be there by Wednesday evening. ‘Til then, okay?” The crashing began anew, now more distant – presumably some of the ‘we’ Roxy had mentioned earlier. Rose thought it best not to keep her from her work.

“Until then.” With that, everything save the light wind was quiet once more. It should be fun, Rose figured. She only hoped she could find time to actually be with Roxy – she’d ask for some time off and hope to get more than a flat, direct ‘no.’ A breather would do her a lot of good, and she didn’t want to waste Roxy’s journey. Time would tell, she supposed.

The second half of the day was as uneventful as the first. The kid left an hour or so after Rose’s break, and so she was left alone to her devices. She was able to get a good deal of writing done, and at such a pace that it was possible that it could be finished by the end of the year. Whether or not it was any good – well, that was a different matter entirely, but she liked to imagine that she had a modicum of talent.

Outside, daylight had made itself sparse, and Rose made way for the cleaning crews and maintenance staff, not that the place needed much upkeep anyway. It was a dry, near-deserted place, but it still looked rather pristine. The kid was a good duster, she had to give him that. Packing her things away and stepping outside once more, she lit the mint-tinged cigarette and began walking, letting the cold, easy city breeze wash over her.

Rose enjoyed taking these aimless walks after a library day. It allowed her mind to wander, to examine the world around her and get a better sense of where she was within it. At times, she supposed that there were better things she could be doing with the little free time she had, but she always drew the (admittedly simple) conclusion that she enjoyed her walks and thoughts, and that was enough for her.

It always amused her slightly to see what kinds of people were roaming around as twilight settled in. Most passersby had, like her, just left work, rushing through the still-icy paths and clutching their briefcases and wrapping themselves in imposing coats in a dash to return to their cozy homes and happy families. Then there were the ever-amusing eccentrics: the street preachers finishing the last of their apocalyptic ministrations, the street performers performing an off-key jazz rendition of some old dance hit Rose could almost name, the rambling homeless, though Rose supposed that was far more sad than amusing. It could never be said that this city didn’t have character, and the characters did so enthrall her.

A sudden splitting headache forced her from her mirth, threatening to fell her. It was a sharp, brutal force, one that caused her to audibly cry out as it struck. Her eyes clamped shut and she started shaking. A moment later, though, she opened her eyes and found everything was fine – the pain had subsided as quickly as it had come. Rose rubbed at her head, confused and irritated. Whatever that was, it probably wasn’t a good sign. She’d never really considered herself much of a hypochondriac, but a pain like that was probably something worth checking out. Yet another thing she’d have to find time for.

She decided it was best to postpone her walk for the night. Her apartment building was fairly nearby, at least. Though the migraine had quickly stopped, Rose still found herself walking slowly, cautious and somewhat anxious about the prospect of another one striking her down. Nothing came of her fear, though, and she made it back to the building and into her room without incident.

Still, something felt off in the air, and in a quite literal sense: an odd smell to the apartment, a scent that felt vaguely familiar to her, but not something she could exactly discern. Placing her belongings aside, she tracked the smell and found that it became stronger as she moved deeper in. Soon enough, she found its source, or at least who was holding the source. Inside her kitchen a figure sat with its face down on her table.

The thing that shocked her the most, though, was not the way the figure was motionless and, upon close inspection, undoubtedly dead. It was also not the small prick that dotted her arm, the only blemish in her body, created by a pinprick or a needlepoint – though as much as she searched, Rose found no needle. What truly startled her was that the deceased girl was her.

Getting over a small amount of her initial surprise, she inspected the body’s face closely. It was Rose. Not even a twin or doppelgänger – she was wearing the same clothes, and had her hair done in exactly the same manner. Hands shaking, the living Rose inspected the other’s fingers and found the same small scar, just below the right index finger, that she had. The same blotchy birthmark on her shoulder, the small burn mark that she was told once vaguely looked like a bundle of grapes. The signs made it all rather unmistakable.

Perhaps it was a prop, some godawful prank pulled by someone in an attempt to freak her out. Who would have the resources and inclination to do such a thing, Rose couldn’t say, but it was a possibility she had to explore. She ran her fingers through the body’s hair; it felt real enough. Abandoning any sense of morality or hygienic sense, she reached a finger inside the other’s mouth and found it still damp inside. The teeth, too, seemed authentic. Quickly retracting her finger and stifling a shiver, she gave a brief sniff of whatever her fingers were coated with and found that it certainly smelled like saliva. Rose could only draw one conclusion: it was a real corpse, and it was her own.

Her mind was swamped with thoughts as she came to the realization. How and why? were the two burning questions, though she doubted any sufficient answers to those would come to her. What the hell am I supposed to do with it? was another strong contender for ‘most pressing question.’ What the fuck? also popped up a few times. She began pacing, washing her hands, looking outside frantically, avoiding turning her gaze upon the body for as long as possible.

There was no putting it off forever, though. A corpse in the apartment would serve her no good in the long run. She’d seen and heard plenty of stories in which someone has to dispose of a body; surely it couldn’t be that hard.

She quickly began making all kinds of strategies and plans of what to do – and it almost worried her how naturally it seemed to come. It would take a great deal of effort to sneak something so visible out of an apartment building, and even if she could manage such a thing there was no dirt nearby for her to bury it in. No, she would need to use a far less subtle approach.

The first step, then, would have to be removing any evidence that this was her. Hair, teeth, fingerprints... that should cover it, right? At last she glanced at the body and inhaled deeply. If this wasn’t some hallucination or night terror it had to be done. She’d start any moment now. It would all be over with soon enough.

She moved to start with the hair, but quickly stopped herself. What about when it gets discovered? Sure, they might not bother investigating some unknown body lying in an alley, but a body with burned fingers and no teeth is going to attract attention. And when they come knocking on Rose’s door and find she looked almost exactly like the body with hair on her head, it – whatever ‘it’ was – would likely come crashing down on her, rendering her as hopeless as she, in one sense, already was.

No easy solution came to mind. She began frantically searching for answers, but found nothing but the same questions she had already asked herself. She gave in, accepting that little could be done. Glancing outside the balcony and checking that there was nobody else outside – there wasn’t, thankfully – she decided that the only thing that could be done was to thrust the body down to the dirty alley below and hope that by the time somebody discovered the corpse it would be too late for anyone to bother to launch much of an investigation. Just some jumper who’d had enough. Clean-cut.

And so the body fell, and continued falling for what felt like a lifetime, until it collided with the ground. Rose could barely hear it, but still knew that the crunch of impact was a sickening sound. That was it, then. There was nothing that could be done now – it was out of her hands. Best to just forget about it and hope it never comes around again.

As she washed, though, she found it was not so easily forgotten. Questions, multiplying by the minute, ran around her mind endlessly, desperate for answers she was sure she’d never find. It was all terribly confusing. She soon attempted to fall asleep, but found that task a titanic struggle. The image of her own lifeless body lay dormant in her mind, bewildering and frightening her as it sprung up at random intervals, before settling down once again into a deep unsettling dread. Rose would find little rest that night.


	2. Time and Again

Eyes sore and heavy, Rose tossed herself back and forth in her bed, desperate for a stillness that refused to come. Why couldn’t she just will herself asleep? She didn’t even think she was that scarred by what had transpired – yes, it was a shock, something she’d never considered she’d have to do, but Rose had never considered herself someone who would allow herself a great deal of fragility. Yet the image of her own unmoving corpse hung framed in the centre of a seemingly permanent mental exhibition. Nothing could be done to will it away; and nothing would satisfy her endless inquiries, no matter how much she thought about them.

She glanced at her phone. Thirty minutes past midnight: Rose had found herself in one of those nights that never seemed to end. For a moment she placed her head back against the pillow, reserving herself to her restlessness and hoping she would simply fade into sleep. Quickly enough, though, she surmised that this wouldn’t be happening anytime soon, and so she lifted herself out of bed, turned on the lights, and began pacing around the apartment.

The chair her body had collapsed upon was still pulled out. She moved to rectify this, and as she pushed the chair back in noticed the miniscule traces of her other self that still remained. A few small clumps of hair from where her head had lain upon the table. A slightly damp spot, presumably originating from her open mouth. And finally, what she noticed hiding under the table: a simple ring, a featureless silver deal. What struck Rose about the ring, though, was the unfamiliarity of it. She had never owned a ring in her life (and if she did, she’d like to think it wouldn’t be so frightfully dull). She and her body weren’t completely inseparable, then. And that meant... nothing. It was meaningless. None of her questions were answered, and neither relief nor worry struck her. All that had changed was that she now had a ring.

Draping an old shawl over herself, she stepped back out onto the balcony, the chilly air rushing against her and briefly sending a shiver down her spine. Peeking at the black abyss below, she considered the corpse for a moment, wondering if it had been found. She swiftly shook off the thought. She would not allow herself to get obsessive over all of this. It wasn’t something she would forget – that much she had accepted – but she couldn’t allow this mystery, intriguing as it was, to take over her life. She sat down on the cold metal lawn chair, placed one of the mint-tinted cigarettes in her mouth, and shut her eyes as she took in the smoke, once more trying to lull herself into some state of unconsciousness.

It seemed to work, as she found herself suddenly awake and aware. She couldn’t have been out for long, as the city was still pitch-black where it was not illuminated; that, and she hadn’t frozen to death. A small collection of ashes and her half-burned out cigarette lay in her lap. Unable to sleep in her bed but content to pass out on the frigid balcony – Rose applauded her own moronic ingenuity.

The warm air inside was a pleasant greeting. Her neck was in a slight bit of persistent pain, and if she couldn’t sleep before, she certainly wouldn’t be able to now. Rifling through the clutter in a few cabinets – she thought she prided herself on her organization, though she had apparently abandoned that creed since moving here – and finding some aspirin, she glanced at the wall clock and noticed it was now ten minutes to one. Hardly any longer until daylight. Downing the water, she considered going out for a walk. The cold would be awful, and there wouldn’t be much to see or do, but it would be something.

Wait. Wall clock? Did she own a wall clock? She recalled that space on the wall being blank. Perhaps it was already there when she moved in, and she’d just never noticed it before. Rose was not a forgetful person; she would’ve remembered buying a wall clock, because she would’ve needed a reason to. It had to have already been there. Right?

She stared at the clock for a moment before shaking her head and chuckling to herself. How paranoid could she get tonight? It was a clock. There was nothing malicious about it. She excused herself from the room and left her doubts in it.

The next several hours passed in a flat, monotonous drone. She sat down and tried to watch some of what passed for entertainment on the television – there was a documentary about elephants, which was vaguely interesting – and then began pacing once more, smoked another cigarette, repeat, repeat. Eventually, as light began flitting through the windows, she returned to her room and, eyes now struggling to stay open, collapsed upon her bed and found herself resting at last.

Her sleep, as she suspected it might be in her delirium, was not as dreamless as she had hoped it would be. There were flashes of her lifeless figure, of it tumbling down to the alley below, of the ring she had now placed on her bedside cabinet. She dreamt of other things, too, though; at one point she was on a cloud and laughing like a little girl. It was entertaining stuff, really.

She awoke still tired and sore. It was one in the afternoon by the time she got up. Sunday was her day of leisure, and she had already squandered part of it. Groaning, she begrudgingly got up, washed herself of all the tired hysterics she had accumulated, ate what little scraps she had left, and prepared to write.

Most of her Sundays were spent writing. Again, she supposed that some would think there better things to do with the one free day they had, but Rose enjoyed the simple serenity of crafting her own stories more than partaking in the drudgery going on outside. Fantasy was her realm, a place she could escape from all the other shit that tried to tear at her. Or rather, that was once the case. She still enjoyed writing, but it had come to be less of any escape and more of simply something to do. Perhaps it would eventually be fulfilling, but for now it simply seemed ‘there.’

She had scrapped and restarted her story many times over, ever unsure of how straight or unconventional she wanted it to play out. There was always something about magic, and always a girl that lived in a run-down house, but that was all that remained consistent. This particular iteration was the longest she’d ever written – a solid fifty pages – and was ostensibly about a girl from the distant future who magically found herself thrust back into the Holy Roman Empire.

She wrote for hours, taking small breaks now and then, until dusk had receded into daylight. Marginal progress had been made – she was up to fifty-six, by her count. Glancing outside, she considered what else to do with her fleeting free time. And then a surprising impulse came to her: she wanted to go out to a bar, or even a club. These places rarely, if ever, attracted her, not least because she spent most of her days working in one. The thought of going out and willingly losing all inhibition was never one that Rose found particularly appealing. And yet, for whatever reason, she felt the need to partake in it now. Perhaps she’d spent far too long inside and desired a brief, if somewhat jarring, change in scenery. Doubtless Roxy would want to do something similar anyway, so it was worth preparing for.

It didn’t take very long for Rose to ready herself. After all, she was not out to impress anyone, least of all herself. She didn’t know exactly where she was going, but she was roughly aware of the area where ‘night life’ tended to thrive. The biting cold had died down since the previous night, and the breeze that filtered through Rose’s jacket was pleasant and warm. Everything felt nearly tranquil, which was unusual for such a bustling city.

By the time she found the row of establishments she was seeking it was dark out, but that hardly mattered under the gaudy illumination these places provided. Every building was fighting the other for attention, with neon rainbows in every direction, promising ‘every fifth drink free!’ or ‘the most exclusive nightclub around!’ (the latter of which frankly sounded more elitist and restrictive than it did appealing). Rose found herself gravitating towards a more understated place – the Estramir – that displayed its name outside and no more. The relative quaintness suited her, and inside she went.

The interior was slightly less downplayed than the outside; everything had a faint purple glow to it, the same kitschy neon that everything else had, though it was far less bright, and was even vaguely pleasant on the eyes. The music wasn’t terribly loud either, though it was still what would be considered ‘club tunes,’ or whatever they were called. There was also a smoke machine running, or else there was a fire no-one had yet been alerted to, as the air resembled that of a foggy morning.

Settling herself in, she ordered a drink; she wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but it tasted vaguely of cherries. For such a small place it was certainly packed. People drinking, dancing, laughing. It was quite amusing to see. Rose watched them all, a strange spectator, and kept herself thoroughly entertained. Soon enough her drink was gone, and she ordered a second.

Every now and then someone would glance at her, but no-one made any advances. Until, that is, a short dark-haired girl dressed like she was participating in the Winter Olympics came near, dragging along her taller, more elegantly-dressed friend. Rose couldn’t quite tell what they were saying, but it was clear to her that one of them wanted to approach her, and the other did not.

“Hey! Hey!” the shorter one called out to Rose, waving her free hand whilst still gripping her friend’s wrist with the other. The taller one relinquished at this point, giving up and crossing her arms as both she and her friend got within talking distance of Rose.

“Good evening. I hope you’ve settled your argument amicably.” Rose smirked, thoroughly entranced by the pair.

The taller one sighed, nodding. “Apologies for that. My friend here is very insistent that I try and meet some people here.” Said friend nodded vigorously in affirmation.

“Well, then. Why don’t you both take a seat and meet me?” Rose figured that the two could make her time here worthwhile. And perhaps she could get them to pay for a drink or two. Each took a seat on one side of her. “So, who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

The shorter girl waved frantically in order to get Rose’s attention first. “Nepeta! And THAT is—”

“Nepeta, dear, I’m perfectly capable of introducing myself.” Her tone was polite, but Rose caught a brief yet sharp glare flung in Nepeta’s direction. It mellowed out quickly, though, as she turned and set her gaze upon Rose. “Kanaya. Pleasure to meet you, much as I was lacking a choice in the matter.”

“Oh, likewise. Rose.” Draining the last of her second drink, Rose took the two of them in now that they were up close. They seemed almost polar opposites – Nepeta dark and black-haired, and seemingly well-toned under all her bulky clothing. Conversely, Kanaya was fair in every way, svelte, immaculate in presentation. They were a fascinating mirror to one another.

The three of them got along wonderfully, in Rose’s view. Nepeta, she learned, was as athletic as she looked, and participated in triathlons and the like. She met Kanaya ‘through a friend,’ as she put it – though as she did, Kanaya shifted around somewhat uncomfortably, for a reason Rose couldn’t ascertain. Kanaya introduced herself as a ‘visual artist’ – Rose made a mental note to introduce her to Roxy should they decide to remain in contact after tonight – who was currently working at some clothing chain Rose had never heard of.

Soon enough the reason for their earlier bickering was brought up – Nepeta had taken Kanaya out in a bid to get her to ‘meet people.’ Kanaya had begrudgingly agreed, and, after meeting person after disinteresting (or outright annoying) person, had ended up here. Rose took this to mean that Kanaya thought her at least partially interesting, which was a nice thought.

They looked positively affronted as they learned of how overworked Rose was. It didn’t seem to be out of social politeness, either – they seemed genuinely shocked to hear about it. She supposed that it should be taken to heart as a sign that she probably did deserve a break. Rose neglected to mention the clone-corpse, though less due to the possibility that it would make for strange ice-breaking conversation than for the simple fact that it had finally slipped from her immediate memory. She actually found herself having a rather good time.

Eventually, though, it came time to leave. Rose still had to be up early tomorrow, and she’d about reached her limit, at which point her cognisance would begin to shy away. When she stood to make her way out, though, Nepeta clamped a hand upon her shoulder.

“Wait! You should definitely come back with us to Kanaya’s place.”

Rose took a moment to process this, and in unison with Kanaya asked, “What?”

Nepeta stood up next to Rose, nodding sagely. “Sure! It’ll be fun. It’s really nearby, too.”

Rose gently shook her head. “Nice as that would be, I have to work tomorrow. Thank you for the offer, but perhaps another time.”

“Ahhh, c’mon, you work way too much! Like you said, nobody even goes to that library anymore! You can take a day, right?”

Rose had to consider for a moment – yes, she had just told herself that a break would be good, but this was a near-stranger’s house she was being invited to, nice as she was. Still... she was in no hurry to return to her own apartment. It was a sad place, the more she thought about it – cramped... messy... once housed a corpse...

Kanaya interrupted her thoughts. “Do I get a say in this?” She folded her arms, shooting a slightly more tame version of the glare she cast earlier.

Nepeta shrugged. “Are you saying you don’t want more of her?”

Kanaya suddenly seemed somewhat flustered. “Well, I... suppose, I... Rose?” She glanced at Rose, seemingly diverting her answer.

“Hrm... alright, sure. I’m as well as making something of this night.” With that, and a cheer from Nepeta, the trio headed out of the Estramir into the night air.

Nepeta wasn’t lying about the distance to Kanaya’s house – it was only a five minute walk from the neon sea. Even in the darkness Rose could see it was a rather simple affair, but most definitely a proper house, spacious and far more liveable than her own home. Inside was displayed what Rose assumed was some of Kanaya’s works – a few interesting paintings, some with fabric stuck onto the canvasses. That, along with the neat presentation of everything in the home, lent a warm, fairly comforting feeling. 

Inside the living space, Nepeta all but forced the two down on a sofa, announcing, “I’ll get some more drinks!” before swiftly taking herself out of the room. It didn’t take much to ascertain Nepeta’s intention in bringing Rose back here, something she should have perhaps figured out back at the club. The warm feeling suddenly made itself sparse. She certainly liked Kanaya, from what she had learned about her, but she wasn’t particularly attracted to her.

Kanaya had seemed to come to a similar conclusion, or had figured it out long ago, and looked equally as unsure about Rose. The two sat at opposites ends of the loveseat, as far away from each other as they could be, and stared off in opposite directions, silent.

When Nepeta returned to this scene she didn’t say anything, though clearly looked disappointed that Kanaya and Rose weren’t close at all.

Sighing – it was an angry, grumbled sigh – Kanaya turned to face Nepeta, glare returning. She quickly composed herself, breathing in and attempting to put on a more neutral face. “Look, Nepeta. I appreciate you doing this for me, but I’m just not sure I’m ready. And I’m not sure if Rose came here with the intentions you had for her.”

Looking frustrated, Nepeta scratched at her neck. “Ahh, I’m sorry. I just... thought it would be a neat idea.”

“It was! It just, well... didn’t work out. I think I need more time.”

 

Rose watched them exchange awkward vague statements for a few seconds more before letting out a fake cough and standing back up. “Look, I don’t think I’m really wanted here now, so... I believe I should be going now.”

“Yes, that’s probably a good idea. Goodnight, Rose.” Kanaya waved briefly, and Nepeta didn’t say anything. As Rose reached the door frame, though, she looked back. “I did have fun, though. Perhaps we should do this again.”

That seemed to perk both of them up somewhat, especially Nepeta, who was enthusiastically nodding as Rose took her leave.

It was a good night, Rose supposed, as she made her way back through the dimly-lit streets. Much more entertaining than she had even hoped it would be. Kanaya and Nepeta were fun, and she needed some friends in her life. She found herself smiling, and, after returning home, slept deep into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

The alarm on Monday morning was something of an unwelcome intruder. She’d gotten back rather late, disrupting her rigorously scheduled sleeping pattern. The gentle warmth of the winter sunrays now felt like overly radiant spears digging into her eyes, and she did not drift from her bed so much as sluggishly drag herself away from its confines.

Still, Rose supposed, it had been worth it. The night before was a pleasant divergence from the norm, however awkwardly it might have ended. She might even make it something of a weekly tradition, time and energy permitting.

Her grogginess quickly faded as she settled into her morning routine, and before she knew it she was outside and heading towards the library. The day was bitterly cold, something to be expected as the calendar plunged deeper into the heart of winter, though there was no snow or ice to impede her path; just biting, nasty wind that constantly snapped at her head.

Despite the chill, though, her head was clear – or, at the very least, clearer than it had been the last few days. Were she a tad less jaded, Rose might feel there was something of a whimsy in the air – the grey-suited businessmen she passed and the unknowable crowds that inhabited the public transport all seemed to be wearing smiles as she passed them by. It was not something she was consciously aware of, at least not at the time, but it kept her mood mirthful, albeit subtly.

The working day proceeded as it normally did, peaceful and without incident. No-one came asking for her, and she barely saw anything of her skittish workmate. A day wrapped in her own head with nothing to complain about.

Night was similarly devoid of distraction or interjection, and as it came to an end, with Rose tucked back into her bed and staring out into the replete blackness outside, it occurred to her that she hadn’t heard a single word spoken all day; not from herself, nor from anyone else. She’d spent the entire day in her own head. There was something novel, in a way, about that.

Whatever novelty had existed wore off the next day, though, as she started her shift and found the bar quickly packed. There was some sort of sports event on, she surmised, judging by the uniformity of most of the patrons and the loud, incessant chatter. They were there to get drunk as quickly as possible and then go off to their game, or perhaps it had already taken place and they’d come to celebrate. That didn’t really matter to her, but it was infuriating all the same.

As the night encroached and the bar emptied out save those unfortunate enough to be there at such hours, Rose thought it pertinent to go ask the management for a short break. Roxy would be here tomorrow, after all, and it would be best to know if she would actually be adequately accommodated.

The exchange with her boss annoyed her. It seemed to take him a few minutes to even register who she was, and he wore a constant scowl that did little to disguise his disgruntlement at being bothered by someone he couldn’t have cared less about. Nevertheless, she did end up walking out with a week off. That was more than enough. It would do her good, if Roxy was to be believed.

Closing time loomed, and Rose went to take her leave. As she walked out, though, she found herself standing directly in front of a real giant of a woman – by her rough, slightly startled estimate, she must have been quite far into the larger half of six feet tall. Her neck was crooked down, and her eyes, mostly hidden under the dim light and the sheen of the glasses she wore, bore directly into Rose’s.

“We’re closed.” Rose thought it best to deal with this as quickly as possible. Truth be told, there was something just a little terrifying about being stared down by someone so large. “I’d recommend one of those all-hours clubs, if you’re looking to drink somewhere.”

The woman stared her down a moment more before speaking. “I know you’re closed.” Her voice was more gentle and quiet than Rose had anticipated, though that did little to make her stare any less threatening.

When she said nothing else, Rose attempted to slink past her. The woman did nothing to stop her, though she did turn to keep her gaze firmly locked on Rose. “Right. Well, okay then.” Having no desire to converse with the woman any further, she began her walk back, pacing a little quicker than usual, but not enough to suggest the fear that was welling up within her. Once she found herself a suitable distance away, she took a brief glance over her shoulder and found that the woman had begun walking in the opposite direction. Rose chose not to let paranoia get the better of her and assumed that would be the last of it. She was right, so it seemed. No shadows came to scare her out of the corner of her eye, and before long she made it back in her apartment with no further incident.

It was around a half-hour into the next day by the time she got back, and she wondered if Roxy was still awake. From all Rose could surmise of her rather, for lack of a better word, interesting line of work, she woke up early and worked straight through the day. Couldn’t hurt to give her a call, though.

She picked up almost instantly. “ _Good_ evening!” rang out in greeting. Rose smiled at the enthusiasm as she sat herself down on her bed.

“I think technically it’s ‘good morning’ by now.”

“Is it…? Oh, yeah, you’re right! Well, good mornin’, then! Sup?” There were no crashing sounds this time. Rose supposed she wasn’t ‘painting.’

“I’ve gotten myself time off. All set for tomorrow.”

Roxy let out a yawn, though even that seemed tinged with some electric excitement. “Great! I should be there for about… I guess four-ish? Which apartment’s yours, again?”

“One-two-oh-one.” Rose complemented Roxy’s yawn with her own. “We should probably get some rest, then.”

“We should! I’ve spent all day working on the exhibition. It’s really coming together! See…”

The two spent the next half-hour talking about nothing in particular: Roxy’s enthusiasm about her art, the coming visit, memories of the last time they were together… It was rare that Rose found herself in such a thorough conversation about such things, but Roxy had that effect on people. It was nice, though, and soon after the call had ended she found herself asleep still smiling, memories morphing into dreams.

There was a certain liberation in being able to forgo the alarm entirely the following morning. It was ten in the morning by the time she got up – awakening during a double-digit time was a rarity. It had felt like so long since she’d had such freedom. Her first port of call was wonderfully mundane – cleaning up. She doubted Roxy would care all that much about the mess, but it felt like some form of obligation to put up a façade of cleanliness, as if it were some unspoken in-joke between the host and the visitor.

It was past noon by the time she’d gotten everything to what she considered to be an adequate standard. As she cleaned the last dustmote that specked her room, she decided to start wearing the ring that her ‘other self’ had left for her. She didn’t know why the compulsion had taken her, but regardless, it had – there was something about the way it sat there, doing absolutely nothing, that bothered her so. Rings are made to be worn, after all, and not as utterly dull table decoration, so she thought it a quaint idea to put it to use. It fit perfectly – it would, having come from her – and Rose found the slightest bit of charm in its plainness. For a moment she wondered where it had come from, and why she –  
the other ‘she’ – was wearing it in the first place, but quickly dismissed those thoughts. They were a dangerous rabbit hole back into an endless pondering that led back to her corpse, and she intended to evict such unsolvable mysteries from of her thoughts for as long as humanly possible.

Roxy arrived as Rose expected she would, with a beaming smile and an enveloping hug aimed directly at her. Rose barely had time to utter a greeting before she’d found herself returning the gesture with just as much vigour. It had been too long, hadn’t it?

“You get here okay, then?” As they broke apart Rose grinned at her sister, who was now hurrying her rather small bag of belongings inside.

“Mhmm! No troubles at all.” Roxy cast her gaze around the room, taking in all there was to see of Rose’s own little slice of city accommodation. “So this is where you’ve holed yourself up, is it? You made it sound way worse than it is, y’know that?” Her luggage set down in a corner, she swiftly made her way to the balcony, opening up the doors and letting in the faintest chill of the afternoon air.

Rose followed her out and found her admiring the sight of the endless building blocks that surrounded them. “It’s just as well you like it if you’re going to be here for a week.”

 

“Ahh, I’d be happy to sleep in a hole in the ground if it was to spend time with you.” Roxy grinned, seemingly pleased with her own giddiness. It was positively saccharine, and yet Rose couldn’t help but be taken by it. “So! How’re things?”

“You know how it is. Work. Sleep.” And a corpse in the kitchen. That would make for a truly sensational conversation topic, Rose was sure, but not one she was particularly open to discussing. “Well. I actually went out on the weekend. That was something different.”

Roxy’s eyes seemed to light up at that. “Really now? You’re gonna have to tell me all about that, you know.”

The cold was getting to Rose. Roxy was still wrapped up under a few layers, but her sister was battling the winter air with nothing but a t-shirt. “Let me show you to your room for the week and I’ll get right on that.”

She’d decided to settle Roxy in her own room and throw down an old mattress for herself. After a small dispute over who would be getting the bed – Roxy, sweet as ever, insisted that she be the one on the floor – the conversation veered back to her night out. After detailing everything that had occurred and Roxy’s interest in the fact that Rose had actually ended up in somebody else’s home had waned, the conversation drifted to what they’d be doing together, which itself drifted off into more endless reminiscence. Time seemed to melt away as the pair talked about whatever sprang to mind for hours on end. It was something of a relief, Rose reflected, to have someone to be able to do that with.

Soon enough, though, Roxy had found herself worn out from the unending chatter and moved to sleep. Bidding her goodnight, Rose took one of the mint-tinged cigarettes in her mouth and placed herself back on the balcony. The sky was clear for once, not an event that seemed to occur very often here, and the stars looked rather pretty as they spread themselves thick across the atmosphere. Rose felt half a little girl again – staying up late, chattering with her sister, admiring the night sky – and that selfsame whimsy, which had almost taken ahold of her days prior, returned in full force, though this time she did not allow any cynicism to ward it off, instead placing the cigarette aside and staring off into nothingness with a wide and careless grin.

As the inexplicable high of her merriment wore off, she too found herself tired and ready to sleep. Returning inside, though, something gave her pause. It wasn’t something she could pinpoint exactly at first – there was simply something off in the air. Her eyes darted around, hoping the sudden feeling of rather intense confusion was just the result of her tiredness.

After a few minutes of frantic searching she found nothing out of the ordinary. Her search was interrupted, though, when her head suddenly rang out in great pain. It was not unlike the first time it had occurred, during her walk last week – in fact, it was exactly the same. She found herself floored, hands gripping her head as the sheer pain became unbearable. And then, just like that, it was gone again. Breathing heavily, Rose stood and held herself, shaking.


	4. A Place in Nowhere

“You alright? You’re looking kinda... scruffy.”

Roxy’s eyes were piercing in their curiosity, but even still it took Rose a moment to register, and then answer, the question. Though the migraine that had struck her had long faded, Rose’s sleep was still troubled. It took her hours to eventually slip out of consciousness, and even after she did her dreams were just as tumultuous. She couldn’t recall precisely what visions had stirred her, but she recalled a feeling of uneasiness and isolation. The sun had only just broken through the hazy morning clouds when she awoke, and her head remained slightly dizzy and light as she made her way up.

“This is just how I look in the morning.”

Rose put on a half-convincing smile and hoped her lie would pass. Roxy’s concern was appreciated, yes, but she didn’t want to have her fawn over Rose’s health. That would be a waste of both their times. Whether Roxy believed Rose or not, she chose not to press further. She, at least, seemed to have slept fine.

Moving to the window and taking in a deep breath of the morning air in an attempt to refocus herself, Rose gazed around the city below. “Did you have anything you planned to do whilst you were here, or are you just letting it happen?”

Roxy briefly joined her at the window, but stepped back when she saw there was nothing particularly interesting to see. It was a fairly dreary morning, and the grey-on-grey combination of sky and buildings made for a rather unattractive view. “I figured we’d get all the touristy stuff done quickly, then spend the rest of the time making our own fun. How’s that sound?”

“Perfect.” Roxy wore a smile of such great enthusiasm that Rose herself started to feel a tinge of excitement for what was to come, despite having seen most of the city’s sights already. “If we’re going to cram everything into one or two days, then, I suppose we should get started, mm?” She drained the last of her coffee – black as it comes – and felt fine once more.

Half an hour later, and they were out. The glumness of the weather had been quelled for the most part, making way for somewhat pleasant, if overly cool sunshine. Roxy certainly took to her role as a tourist – camera hanging around her neck, carrying large bags on her back that were mostly empty. She looked a stranger next to Rose, who was dressed rather minimally and carrying nothing at all.

As Rose suspected it might be, the day was a lot of fun. Nothing she hadn’t seen before, but Roxy’s ongoing commentary on everything was enough to keep her more than entertained. They didn’t get to see much, really – they’d chosen to walk around, and most of the more famous and interesting sights were an hour or two in a bus away, but what little they did manage to see had caught Roxy’s eye and made for a relaxing, easygoing trip for Rose.

By around one in the afternoon they’d become tired and hungry from the endless walking, and so they stopped at a small café. It was one Rose had been to a few times – a tiny thing, quaint even, but built in a modern fashion such that it appeased all the hipsters that seemed to constantly inhabit it.

“You’re enjoying yourself, then?” Rose smiled at Roxy, the steam from her second cup of coffee billowing up.

Roxy was still admiring the view of the park from the window as she replied, looking almost entranced. “Yup! And as a matter of fact, you seem to be having fun, too. Where’s all that moping and boredom gone, huh?” She grinned, tapping at Rose’s arm with a fist.

“I suppose I misplaced it before you got here.” Rose let out a faint chuckle of amusement. It occurred to her that she hadn’t felt this calm in a long time. Some stress remained certainly – those headaches were still of a major concern, among... other things. But she found herself forgetting about these things, and that was nice.

As the conversation grew thinner and they’d had enough to drink, Roxy became eager to head back out. Rose was happy to oblige, but first excused herself to the bathroom. As she washed her hands, the image looking back at her in the mirror was one of shocking contentment – it looked rather bright and happy, a short, sharp smile curling on her lips that she didn’t even know was there.

Something else quickly caught her attention, though – the sound of music drifting in. It was faint, very faint, yet it also seemed close. It was a slow, plodding tune; Rose could make out drums and the sound of horns blaring, like a distant foghorn calling ships forth. There was something oddly compelling about it, a certain something that, even in its quietness, made Rose want to sway from side to side. She was never one for dancing, but the compulsion was there nonetheless. There was something oddly familiar about the song, the more she thought about it (perhaps her mother had played it once?). Moving around and searching for its source, she quickly discovered that the closer she got to the mirror, the louder it got.

For a second Rose supposed that the building next door was the source, and that soon enough the management of the café would ask for them to turn it down. It struck her, though, as she turned to exit, that there was no building next door at all, not in that direction – the cafe sat at the right end of a short row of buildings, and the music was emanating from the right. The next logical explanation, then, was that there was some band playing outside; the park was nearby, after all. But during her pacing of the bathroom, Rose found that even moving more than a foot away from the mirror rendered the sound almost inaudible.

Pressing her ear against the mirror, Rose could only draw one conclusion – that, somehow, the music was coming from inside the glass itself. As this dawned on her, though, the long, droney drawl of the horns finally stopped completely, as did the drums. In an instant, it was silent once more.

The first question Rose had to ask herself was if she was okay. Was an old tune just playing in her head, and somehow she’d become confused and heard it elsewhere? The glass of the mirror was razor-thin; no-one could have placed a speaker in there, however small. She splashed cold water in her face and looked at herself again. The image looking back no longer looked calm. In fact, the first word that Rose found to describe her visage was slightly  _ deranged.  _ It was a troubling thought.

Not willing to be stuck with herself in that room for much longer, Rose exited back out into the café. As she approached Roxy, though, she found her sister being looked over by a member of the café staff. A second barista was taking away what looked to be shards of glass. Roxy was still smiling and waving the man away, but her face was flushed and riddled with sweat.

Rose rushed her last few steps over. “What happened?”

Looking up at her, Roxy laughed uneasily. “Oh, it’s fine. I just started having a bit of a headache. It was  _ really _ strong – knocked over that glass – but it’s gone now! Really!” She shot a glance at the man presiding over her, who took her insistence to mean ‘you can go now.’

Rose sat herself back down and stared at her sister with a grim look. A small, very strong headache – was she to be a believer in coincidence when something like this happens? She took one of Roxy’s hands in her own. “You’re sure you’re alright? The pain has completely gone by now?”

“Yeah. One minute, I felt like I was gonna fall right down on the ground, but next... just a little dizzy. Weird, huh?” Rose didn’t want to give worry to the both of them by bringing up that she, too, had went through what she was convinced was the exact same ordeal, but it gave her great personal alarm. She’d never heard of a contagious headache, and didn’t think it possible, but what other answer was there? Coincidence seemed a cop-out. “I think we should probably get back, though. Shouldn’t push myself too hard and all that.” There was a great pang of disappointment at that, something Rose suspected Roxy was also feeling. She was so eager to see everything, and Rose was looking forward to more of the commentary. Perhaps it was for the best, though, and so she agreed. 

Outside, as they turned the corner around the café, Rose looked to see if there was any band or person with an instrument in sight. She didn’t see anything, though, nor could she hear the hum of the horns anywhere but in her head. The entire ordeal was very bewildering, and suddenly she was very keen to get back.

Both of them were rather quiet by the time they had situated themselves back in the apartment, choosing to immerse themselves in their respective arts. Roxy was sketching away in a pad she had brought along, and Rose was attempting to continue her story. It seemed to have hit a standstill, though – she was far too unbalanced, too confused and tired and mixed up by the day’s sudden end to think of anything worth putting to paper. She could see that Roxy wasn’t as stirred, though – her pencil seemed to be striking across the paper faster than Rose could keep up with it.

Tiring of the empty sound of silence that seemed to fill the room, Rose propped herself up against the window and lit a minty cigarette. “I’m sorry the day had to end like that. I know you were looking forward to everything.”

Roxy grinned, vim in her voice. Rose didn’t think it was a front, either; Roxy was always good at putting stuff behind her and looking ahead. It was a trait that Rose had to admit she was just a little envious of. “Don’t worry about it! They’re just sights, anyway, right? We’ve still got plenty of time to do whatever the hell we wanna do.”

She was right, Rose supposed. Smoke drifted out past the open window and disappeared into the emerging night. “We should probably do some planning, then. What do you feel like doing?”

Thinking on this for a while, Roxy’s eventual answer was a shrug. “Dunno. I’ll see what I feel like in the morning.”

Watching the paper of the cigarette burn away from a moment, Rose looked back at her sister and grinned. “Well, fair enough. Until then.”

Night overtook evening, and Roxy, who still seemed to harbor some lingering lightheadedness, retired early. Rose supposed she should follow – she’d want to get up around the same time Roxy did, as not to waste her time here. Before she did, though, she noticed Roxy had left the sketch pad lying there, and so decided to take a look. From what she’d seen before, Roxy’s works certainly had a slightly esoteric tinge to them, but there was always something rather beautiful to admire in them.

The scene sprawled out on the paper was no disappointment. There were three people all huddled around a campfire. Despite being done entirely in graphite, Rose could almost feel the colour bursting out of the image, and there was some great idiosyncratic detail to pieces of the picture, such as the way the flames seemed almost three-dimensional, or how vivid the expressions on the people’s faces were. Two of them seemed like they were wearing the comedy/tragedy masks, the kind you see to indicate theatre. On closer inspection, though, it was apparent that this was not the case, and that those were just their expressions. There was almost something haunting about it. The third one was looking away into the distance, but the faintest hint of a grin crept along the side of his face.

It made Rose want to put a little more effort into her own work, truth be told. It gave her such inclination to do so that she decided to take an extra hour before sleeping, just to have more than a modicum done for the day. And the motivation came strong – the hour came and went with Rose hardly noticing the minutes ticking by, so engrossed was she in her preoccupations. Eventually, though, as she sipped some water, she realized she’d been going for more than an hour and a half, and figured that she’d done enough for the day.

She stood up and moved to her temporary bed, but stopped dead in her tracks when the sound of horns rattled through her ears and into her head. It was so faint as to be barely perceivable, but Rose was certain it was there. Slowly, she tracked it outside, down to the very end of her hallway. It got increasingly louder as the music seemed to trail downwards. It kept falling down as Rose started running downstairs. Now and then she questioned what she was doing, and if she was even sane or lucid anymore, but the unending drone of the music kept forcing her onward. Eventually, she reached the very bottom floor, and at last she found herself level with the sounds.

There was no-one in the lobby but a guard who had dozed off. Rose tracked the music right to the front doors of the apartments. It was not just the music that she found there, though – looking through the glass, instead of the expected nocturnal landscape, there seemed to be a dark, foggy room. There was something about it that seemed to strike her memory. After a second of deliberation, Rose recognized it as the interior of the Estramir.

She concluded that she’d either fallen asleep or gone very mad. Bearing this in mind, she touched a hand against the glass and looked inside. The floor was empty, and yet she swore she could hear the sounds of a million conversations all muffling each other. The horn drone at last came into full clarity as she touched her head against the glass. This time it didn’t fade, and Rose stood there for a few minutes, soaking it in. It was so familiar to her, and yet, no matter how far back her mind searched for  _ why _ , she could not find a reason.

Wrapping a hand around the bar of the door, Rose pushed it open. Once again the sound of the horns faded instantly, and the sight of the Estramir faded from the glass. Outside, there were only the familiar grey streets, illuminated by the dull orange of the streetlights. Cold wind came through and hit her face. It had all felt so real.

  
Closing the doors and making the ascent back to her apartment, Rose fell into bed and thought for a moment. Was this a dream, then? When she awoke, what would she think had happened? The horns rang out in response once again, and Rose could only hope that this time they truly were in her head.


	5. The Lighthouse Beams

Rose woke up easily, and well-rested. The sun was just eking out of the concrete horizon as her eyes opened, and there was a certain pleasant warmth to the air that encouraged her to get up without hesitation. Drifting to a window, she felt the morning breeze float inside, but it was hardly perceptible. The taste of the morning air seemed especially crisp.

Coffee in hand, she took herself out upon the balcony. The breeze was a little more apparent here, but it did nothing to detract from the serenity; if anything it seemed to enhance it. Far, far below, the flea-sized cars and microbial people dragged themselves across the stone earth beneath their feet, heading in every direction around her.

Soon enough her drink was gone, and she brought her gaze up into the clouds. She watched them for a while, as they too drifted across the empty air, taking form and growing darker. It must have been raining over there.

The sun scaled ever higher and began to catch Rose’s eye. She’d sat there for quite some time, she supposed. It was her expectation that Roxy would tap her shoulder sooner or later, but she hadn’t heard her sister all morning. It was probably a good thing that she was resting, though. Roxy’s migraine was still a concern.

After a while she’d had enough observation and returned inside with the motivation to write; there was nothing else to do whilst she awaited to hear from Roxy. Between bouts of writing, she took the occasional glance back outside, surmising the time from the sun’s position. Sure, she had plenty of devices capable of telling her the time, but seeking out and looking at those would have broken her accumulated concentration.

It must have been around eleven when she decided Roxy’s silence was a little too out of character. Perhaps the headache had begun to persist, or she’d fallen to a different affliction; whatever it was, the silence rang out like an alarm. Moving over to her room, she pressed her ear against the door. It was entirely possible her worries had been just that, and that Roxy was simply deep in slumber.

This was almost the conclusion she drew after she heard breathing. Pausing for a moment, though, it became readily apparent that it was unusually loud and erratic, and more than a little ragged. Every few breaths seemed to be accompanied by the sound of whimpering. And as Rose put her hand upon the door’s handle, she could also hear faint whispers. Though she couldn’t make out what the exact words were, it was clear that they were pleading and terrified.

Roxy sat on the bed, both hands pulling the sheet up to her mouth, looking as if she were trying to silence herself. Her eyes, which darted toward Rose the instant she entered, were wide and dark and filled with unmistakable fear. Rose took a quick glance around the room to see what could be causing such dread but couldn’t find anything. Standing up out of the bed, still clutching the sheet, Roxy pushed herself as far back into the corner as she could. Her eyes never left Rose, who had begun stepping forward, slowly, cautiously. From the way Roxy was looking at her, it seemed that _she_ was where the unrest was coming from.

“Roxy.” Rose spoke as calmly as she could, hand outstretched. It was a performance – really, she was both completely confused and horrified to see her sister like this. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She got no response beyond “I… I…” and a succession of whimpers. As Rose got near, she slowed her approach down to a snail’s pace, trying not to provoke any sudden response, though Roxy seemed firmly frozen in fear, a shaking statue.

Placing a hand onto Roxy’s arm elicited a gasp. Her eyes pulled away from Rose’s and down to the fingers now held on the side of her shoulder. She examined this for what seemed like minutes, before she brought her stare back to Rose’s face.

“You’re… really here?” Her voice was almost completely hushed, like she was whispering it to herself more than to Rose. The question only compounded Rose’s confusion, but she couldn’t afford to stand and ask questions quite yet.

“Yes.” was her answer, then, and this seemed to calm Roxy down just a little. Dropping the sheet, she brought both her hands up to Rose’s face and held them there for a moment.

The barest hint of a smile formed on Roxy’s face, and her shaking hands fell down behind Rose’s back as she was pulled into a weak, limp hug. “You really are.”

It took some time, but soon enough Rose had coaxed Roxy out of the bedroom, sitting her down and looking her over. Whatever had happened, she didn’t seemed to have been damaged physically; beyond her persistent trembling and pale face, there was nothing to indicate an attack or anything of the sort.

Rose gave her some water and a few minutes to calm herself as much as possible. After most of the shaking seemed to have subsided, she started her questioning. “Roxy… would you mind telling me what happened to you?” She spoke softly, much as she wanted to start pressing hard for answers.

For a while nobody spoke. Roxy’s stare was firmly fixed onto the floor, and her hands wrung themselves tightly around the glass. Eventually she let out the smallest of laughs and looked up.

“I think I’ve gone insane, Rose.”

The factuality of the statement both concerned and intrigued her. So Roxy too had found herself pondering the healthiness of her own mind. Many things darted through Rose’s head at that point – more questions, theories, guesses, everything, anything. For instance, was this just a factor of these migraines, temporary insanity? Was it even temporary?

All she said was “Why do you think that?”

Roxy seemed hesitant to answer. Whatever she had experienced, it was clear that it was outside normal human experience, perhaps something akin to what had happened to Rose the previous night. After about a minute deliberation and lip-chewing, Roxy decided to continue.

“Last night, I woke up, really late, or early or whatever. At first I wasn’t really sure I was awake – like, one of those lucid dream things.” She smiled faintly. “I tried to fly. It didn’t work, so I turned on the light.” A pause. “There was someone in the room, looking out of the window. It scared me a little, but then I thought it was you, because it looked like you. I was about to ask you why you were there, when I looked closer and saw that it wasn’t you. It was me.”

Rose looked deeply at Roxy, unsure of what exactly to feel. Coincidence had long since been abandoned. Outwardly, though, she tried her best to keep her composure. “It was you?”

“Yeah. Me. My face, my hair, my clothes… it was me. So then I thought, well, this is a dream, then, and I went up to go high-five myself. Then she turned to me, screamed, and disappeared – I’m talking _vanished_ , just went and became air.”

Well, that was different. For one, Roxy’s… other self, for lack of a better term, was alive. Stranger still, it seemed to not be corporeal. Maybe they were both insane after all.

Roxy continued. “I thought that was it, and went to continue my dream, but… well, I couldn’t. Everything felt too real to be a dream, y’know? It kinda dawned on me that I was awake.” She glanced around the room, considering her words again. “Then I – the, uh, other I? – came back. The same thing happened again, except this time she was laughing before she vanished. I was freaking out a little. And then it happened again. And again, and again. Then she started staying for longer, talking to me… telling me not to leave. Even though all I wanted to do was to get out of there, being told not to made me _not_ wanna run. That was it for the rest of the night. She sat there, talking to me for hours, about… fuck, I don’t even remember. Then she just left for good. I was so scared to move, hoping she wouldn’t come back. And then you showed up. So… yeah. I’m crazy. I’m seeing shit. I need to get checked out. Quickly.”

“Roxy.” That was a lot to take in all at once. Firstly, though, Rose needed to quell as much of her sister’s doubts as she could. “I don’t think you’re insane. In fact, I have an explanation for this.”

This seemed to take Roxy out of her delirium somewhat. “How?”

“Well, maybe not an explanation in the fullest sense of the word, but… well, let me tell you about a few things that might make you feel a little less alone in this. You see, I… I…” Rose was fully prepared to tell Roxy about all of her own flights of insanity when a sound rang out through her head. There it was again: the loud foghorn drone, soon accompanied by the gentle tapping of the drums. Rose glanced to her left and looked out upon the balcony. It was no longer there, though – in its stead was a darkness that seemed almost infinitesimal but for a muted flashing of lights and occasional glimmers in the unknowable distance.

“Wait, Rose. Rose, I’m seeing stuff again. The balcony’s gone. There’s another room there.” Roxy too was staring outside.

Rose let out a laugh, loud enough that it almost blocked out the incessant horn blast. So now they were having the same crazed visions? What the hell did that mean? Rose leaned in close to Roxy with something of a crazed grin on her face. “And are you hearing things too?”

Roxy’s stammer had returned. “Y-yeah. There’s like this, uh, horn sound. It just keeps going on and on. It’s horrible.”

Clapping her hands together, Rose turned back to the balcony doors and guffawed again. “Excellent news, Roxy! We’re both seeing the same thing.”

Roxy stood up and shakily walked towards Rose. “What?”

Rose pointed to a shelf of bottles inside. “On the top row. There’s a red bottle, then two blue ones, two green, and finally another blue, right?”

“Uh… yeah, you’re right.” Roxy’s terror seemed to be subsiding in favour of awe.

“And there.” Rose pointed up to the ceiling. “Four sets of lights, all in a bundle, in a kind of clover pattern, right?”

“I see that, yeah.”

“This, Roxy, is the Estramir! Remember that I told you about going out to a club not long ago? Well, funny thing, this was that place! And ever since, I’ve been seeing it, out of windows, doors – anywhere where it shouldn't be. And now you are.”

Roxy gawped at the information, turning her gaze back on Rose. “Um… then what the hell does this mean?”

Rose strode forward and thrust the balcony doors open. As she expected, the image of the Estramir disappeared from the windows, and a wind blew into the room as the sight of the city skyline greeted the two once more. Rose turned back to her sister, eyes as wide as her grin, and announced: “I haven’t the slightest clue, Roxy. Not the slightest damn clue!”

It was then that Roxy too started laughing alongside Rose – hesitantly at first, and then progressively more genuine. Their amusement was cut short, though, as two cards fell down from the ceiling. They materialized from nowhere, in what Rose could only conclude was not too dissimilar to the way Roxy’s other self had appeared and disappeared. The cards, small rectangular things, landed neatly on top of each other on the floor. With sudden great interest, Rose picked them up and handed one to Roxy.

Printed on the card were two lines of text, the top one written in a most elegant cursive, the bottom in heavy, bold block capitals:

_It’s showtime!_

LET’S MEET THERE TONIGHT

They showed their cards to each other, confirming that both of them read the same thing. Roxy’s expression suggested both excitement and confusion. “Where’s ‘there’?”

Rose smirked. “Where do you think?”

***

As they waited for night to fall, both of them tried to theorize what was happening. One early guess was that it was simply one of them that had gone completely mad, but that idea was quickly dismissed; their shared experience seemed too real to disregard. Maybe Rose would wake up strapped to a bed somewhere soon enough, who knows? But that seemed more boring than likely. The more they talked about it, the more normal it seemed. As time crawled ever forward, they had all but begun to accept that this was what was happening to them.

All their theories were just that, though – theories. They could only hope that whoever – whatever – had summoned them could clarify a few things. As the streetlights lit up and the air painted itself black, the two readied themselves. Roxy made the point that they should dress up a little – they were, after all, still going to a club. The thought amused Rose, and so she followed suit.

They were abuzz with anticipation as they began their walk, ‘invitations’ in hand. Rose dearly hoped they would get some explanation. There was nothing within the laws of the universe that could explain this, as far as she knew, and so whatever explanation there was must be truly riveting.

She was half-surprised to see that the Estramir was still there as they approached it; it wouldn’t have been entirely unexpected at this point to have seen it completely disappeared, replaced by a morgue or some other morbid joke. But the Estramir still stood, still slightly more reserved than the other surrounding buildings, and still without queue to get in.

It was odd being back inside the place after having seen it everywhere. Unlike in the visions of the club, though, it was fairly packed with people. None of them seemed to be here for the same reasons as Rose and Roxy, though; they were dancing or getting drunk or doing things besides entertaining flights of fantasy.

“Let’s at least get a drink while we wait, shall we?” Without waiting for a response, Roxy pulled Rose over to the bar, where they took a seat. A drink would be nice, she supposed. It’s not like being intoxicated would be much of a shock to the system at this point.

Halfway through her second drink, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Looking back, she found Kanaya looming over her, once again accompanied by Nepeta. “Rose? Is it you who brought us here?” Both of them were also carrying cards, and Rose suspected she knew what was written on them. This day just got more interesting as it went on.

Rose held up her own greeting card and indicated for Roxy to do the same. “Actually, we got the same call. This is my sister, Roxy, by the way. Roxy, I believe I’ve told you about Kanaya and Nepeta here.”

With a smile, Roxy waved her card up too. “Hiya! So… have you been seeing stuff too?”

Nepeta seemed enthusiastic to answer for them. “Yup! For a while, I thought I was all messed up. Then I found out Kanaya here was having similar stuff happen to her – headaches, hearing sounds, seeing this place – so now we’re here!”

Rose sipped at her drink. “That sounds familiar, doesn’t it, Roxy?”

Before Roxy could answer, though, everything around them began to change. First, the music cut out, before being replaced by the now-too-familiar drone of the horns, and then the chatter of people shut up. Rose looked around. It was just the four of them, alone.

Standing up, Rose drained the last of her drink. “It seems it’s showtime.”

Footsteps could be heard in the distance, coming down a set of stairs. Soon enough, a figure rounded the bar. Rose couldn’t mistake who it was, just from sheer height alone: it was the same woman who had blocked her exit from the bar. “Right ya are, Rose. Right ya are.” With a grin, she took a seat upon the bar, staring at all of them in turn.

“You… I know you, don’t I?” Kanaya seemed to be searching for the source of recognition, but her thoughts were cut short by the woman.

“Yeah, yeah, you all don’t have to act surprised – you’ve all seen me before. I made sure of that.” She was grinning ear-to-ear.

When there was a brief gap of silence, Rose cut in. “Well?”

The woman stared at her, shrugging. “Well what?”

Roxy folder her arms. “Well, what’s happening? That’s why we’re here, right?”

Everyone was looking upon the woman, completely rapt in their attention. “Well. Well, well. Let me break it up for y’all – you want the good news or the bad first?”

Kanaya’s answer was mumbled, but still loud enough for everyone to hear. “Some good news would be very welcome now.”

“Excellent! Well, let me first get the introductions out the way. I already know all of your names, but you can call me Meenah. Names make everything friendlier, huh? Now!” The woman – Meenah, then – clapped her hands together, apparently excited to get to it. “The good news is that _none of you_ are insane, alright? Nor is any of this some dream in a coma or whatever. That’s why I’ve gathered y’all here tonight – because some of ya seemed dangerously close to checking yourselves into the nearest psych ward, and I couldn’t have that happening. So, congratulations, you’re all sound of mind. That make y’all happy?”

It was nice to know, Rose supposed, even if she wasn’t fully convinced. Still, she felt at least a tad bit saner now. “And the bad news?”

Meenah’s grin faded somewhat. “Right. The bad news. The unfortunate thing is, the bad news is pretty much the explanation for everything.” She tapped a fist against her chin, in thought. “I don’t think it’d be a good idea to lay it all on ya at once, so why don’t we all get sharing first? You all know by now that some pretty fucked up stuff has been happening to ya recently, things you can’t possibly begin to explain. You,” she pointed to Nepeta. “You were the first to have somethin’ happen to you, right? Go on and tell us.”

All eyes were on Nepeta. “Right! So, at first, it was really minor stuff, like things going missing even though I was _sure_ of where I’d left them. Or the opposite – things appearing that I didn’t even know I had. But then! About… I’d call it eight months ago, I woke up to find that my cat… well, he’d become three cats. Like. there were three of them. All exactly the same. It was the weirdest thing! I…”

Meenah raised her hand and nodded. “Yeah, we get the picture. You?” Her stare moved to Kanaya.

Kanaya seemed very hesitant to share. She chewed on her fingernails for a while, eyes moving anywhere that they didn’t find another person’s. Eventually, though, she gave in. “Okay. Half a year ago, I was sitting at home with my girlfriend. It was getting dark, so I got up to turn the hallway lights on. So I did. Then as I turned back into the living room she was gone. Completely disappeared. I had only turned away for less than ten seconds… there were no open doors or windows or anything… it didn’t seem possible.”

“Alright, alright, save the tears. Blondie number one?” Her eyes turned on Rose.

Her answer was far more curt than the other two. “I found my own corpse in my kitchen.”

Meenah laughed. “Short and to the point, excellent. Hope ya know how much of a bitch that was to deal with, by the way.”

Rose took that to imply that Meenah had disposed of her body, somehow. She didn’t press, but was thankful nonetheless.

“And that leaves me.” Roxy took a final sip from her glass. “Mine was kinda like Rose’s – another me. Except she was alive, and kept shouting and talking to me all night until she vanished. It was awful.”

Meenah leapt up and clapped her hands together again. “Lovely, now we’re all a little more acquainted. So you all wanna know the reason for this happening, right? You all better prepare yourselves.” Everyone’s breath was stifled as they awaited the answer. Meenah was clearly enjoying the theatrics of the tension. “The answer is simple, really: your universe is tearing itself apart.”

The incredulous stares and silent mouths that met Meenah seemed to surprise her, as if they were expected to understand and accept exactly what they’d just been told. A few mouths opened as if to say something, or ask a question, but the statement was so confusing and yet so simply put that it was hard to know where to begin. Noting their quietness, Meenah sighed. “What, that wasn’t enough for you? Do I have to lay it all out piece by piece? I only know so much.”

It was Kanaya who spoke out. “Well… yes, you do. That’s not something that’s very easy to understand… even if it does explain things, in a way.”

Meenah bit down on a finger, considering. “Alright. I’m gonna explain as much of this as I can to you. It’s gonna take a little while, and it’s gonna sound like nothing you thought possible. It’s up to you whether or not to believe it, but it’s fact, I promise you. While I’m explaining, you all sit down and shut up. Not a word until I’m done. Deal?”

Anyone not already seated took their places. “Deal.” Rose supposed she had no choice but to believe. She vowed, then, that whatever came out of Meenah’s mouth, however improbable – however completely impossible – she would accept.

Meenah began pacing as she spoke, staring deep into everyone. “Like I said, your universe is breaking. Now, that word ‘your’ there, that’s important, because this isn’t _my_ universe – that is to say, I don’t come from here, but another one.” Roxy let out a syllable – ‘th…’, as Rose heard it – but Meenah stood forward and placed a hand under her chin, lifting her fingers up and closing Roxy’s mouth. “Remember that part about shutting up? That’s the least surprising thing you’re about to learn.” She drew her hand back. “There are other universes. Infinite amounts of ‘em, in fact. The laws of most universes are consistent, but some – like the one I came from – well, they have some fucked up rules, I’ll tell you that much.”

“For reasons I still ain’t exactly clear on, sometimes these universes start messing with each other. All this stuff that’s been happening to you, that’s what that is. Universes are intersecting with each other, bringing things out of one and into the other. The corpse in the apartment, for instance: that was from some different girl who’d OD’d or something like that. She was lying there, ready to rot away, when suddenly, poof. Into your realm.”

Demonstrating something of a flair for the dramatic, Meenah paused, taking in the bewildered and shocked faces before her. “That brings us to you four. For the most part, the ways that the universes cross are pretty minor – y’know, a couple new meteors a thousand light years away, an extra pencil appearing in the drawer – but you four: the whole damn system of universes seems to be trying to fuck with you specifically. Why is that, you think? Any guesses?”

They had none. She walked past them all, pointing at them. “Kanaya Maryam. Nepeta Leijon. Roxy Lalonde. Rose Lalonde.” She then placed her hand on her own chest. “Meenah Peixes. In an infinite universe, there’s gonna be many, many versions of the same person, but not every single universe is gonna have a ‘you.’ That doesn’t apply to us though. No, a version of us exists in all the universes that ever were and will be.”

Again, she let this set in for a second. “There are others that are like this, too; twenty-eight of them, in fact. I wanted to look for them all, but your universe is breaking faster than I thought it would. There hasn’t been time. So you four will do. This is a lot, I know, so let’s take a break. Give me a question.”

Rose jumped at the opportunity. Yes, this was all completely insane, and yet it all made so much sense. And god, was it exciting. “How do you fit into this, then? Who are you and how’d you get here?”

“Ah, now that is a good question. Where I came from, we were working on a way to ‘fix’ whatever the fuck had been broken. It was all complicated shit, and I didn’t understand any of it; I was kinda the guinea pig. I didn’t mind, though. All their poking and prodding gave me the ability to bring us here. This is what I like to call a ‘pocket dimension’ – a tiny little universe of my own, seperate from all the others. Now, before ya ask, I dunno why it looks like that club or why that godawful song won’t stop playing. Ya get used to it, though, trust me. I can take myself and anyone I want in and out of here at will.”

Once more, there was silence. Everyone seemed to be considering this barrage of madness in their own ways. Roxy and Nepeta were both ecstatic about it, judging from their jovial murmurings to one another. Kanaya, on the other hand, looked deeply worried. Rose was as thrilled as her sister, truth be told, but she didn’t let it show beyond a wry grin.

“Um…” Kanaya was wringing her fingers together. “Well, if this is all true, then… what’s next?

“I brought you all here tonight just to let ya know what’s what, nothing more. When the time comes – and it’ll be soon, don’t you fret – I’ll bring you back here, and discuss what’s gonna happen going forward. For now, though.” Meenah snickered quietly. “You’re all gonna go back to your regular everyday lives. Ya just gotta keep living like nothing’s happened. And with that, I’ll see y’all later.”

She seemed to make sure that her exit fit the mood, as her piercing eyes and full grin slowly became less and less perceptible until at last she had vanished. The horn drone faded and the music of the club returned, as did the people that occupied it. No-one seemed to notice their reappearance, and so it had to be supposed that, to them, they had never left at all. No-one said a word – they couldn’t. With all they’d heard, and all they’d seen, it had become difficult to deny the reality of their situation. Reality was a funny word for it, but it was all they had to hang on to.


	6. Side Chapter 01: Why Ask Why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side chapters! They're still part of the regular story, and still fairly essential to the plot, but from the perspective of characters that aren't Rose, and generally shorter. Hope you enjoy this first one.

As their ebbing reality rematerialized around them, there was the briefest moment of stunned pause. The four of them stared at each other, and then the emerging club crowd, trying to process it all. The dreamlike nature of it all held their attention until Kanaya, shaking slightly and looking distraught, stood up and dashed out the entranceway, attracting a few passing glances from those she bumped against. Rose and Roxy seemed to pay this little heed beyond a concerned look, and so Nepeta took it upon herself to chase after her friend.

 

Outside, Kanaya was fervently searching for the keys to her car. From her expression it seemed to Nepeta that she was on the verge of tears. As Kanaya reached down to unlock her car, Nepeta approached and gently placed her hand upon Kanaya’s wrist, hoping to make her concern apparent.

 

Kanaya shoved her hand away. “I need to go, Nepeta! I just need to…” Her words trailed off into nothing, and her hand slipped from the car door handle, the other hand reaching up to cover her now readily crying eyes.

 

It bothered Nepeta that she could find no words of comfort – nothing besides platitudes, at any rate. They’d all accepted the fact that this was real, and telling her that it would be alright would be disingenuous – everything was ending, or so it seemed. If anything, Kanaya’s reaction was the most rational. Yet she still felt like she had to try. She spoke hesitantly. “Look, look, this is a very… weird situation, I know. But we can’t just go freaking out now. We have to be ready, right?”

 

“Ready for what? We still haven’t been told what’s going to happen after the fact. I don’t even think _she_ knows!” Kanaya tossed the car door open, her body shaking. “I don’t want this to be happening. Our friends, Nepeta. Our families. Everything we care about just, what, vanishes into complete nothingness? I don’t want this.”

 

Nepeta chewed on her lip, uncertain. “Neither do I, but… it’s happening, isn’t it? We have to accept it, even if that is really hard.”

 

“This isn’t something you just _accept.”_ Kanaya’s fear seemed to have turned to anger as she shot a glare at Nepeta. She ducked inside her car and slammed the door closed before Nepeta could get a word in.

 

As she turned the ignition, though, Nepeta ducked to the other side and climbed into the passenger seat. “Where is it you’re even going?”

 

The car began to move forward. “The night isn’t over yet. I need to clear my head.”

 

Nepeta could only imagine what that meant, but resolved not to let her friend go alone. “Fine. Then I’m coming with you.”

 

Kanaya raised no objection as they began driving through the brightly lit cityscape.

 

Ten minutes later, they had parked up outside a rather dingy-looking dive bar, a far cry from the neon-tinged optimism of the clubs. Kanaya seemed in a rush to enter, leaving Nepeta trailing as they entered.

 

The pair couldn’t have possibly looked more out of place – Kanaya was wearing a flowing red dress, and though Nepeta had put far less effort into her attire, the tastefulness of her blazer still distinguished her from the other bar inhabitants. They didn’t seem to attract much attention, though; there were only four or five other people there sans the bartender, and they seemed to be trapped within their own inebriated worlds. The two sitting at the bar seemed to be sleeping, and the rest were glancing out the windows or staring at the walls.

 

Seating herself at the bar, Kanaya skipped the pleasantries and opened up with a brusque “Give me something strong, please.”

 

As she was served, Nepeta set herself next to her. “Just… just water, thanks.”

 

Kanaya looked at her, incredulous. “Water? Now?”

 

“I don’t even drink. Besides, if you’re really going through with this, you’re gonna need someone to take you back.”

 

Kanaya could challenge her no further. Nepeta’s concerns for her friend hardly dissipated as the night went on – if anything, they grew, as Kanaya plunged herself even deeper into a drunken stupor. At some point, Nepeta figured she’d had enough of watching it all play out and began to lead Kanaya away. “Let’s just get you to bed, alright? I think that’d be a good idea.” Kanaya seemed far beyond arguing against this, and was led out the door after considerable struggle. Nepeta scrambled to find the keys, settled Kanaya into the passenger seat, and began to drive her home.

 

This wasn’t like Kanaya at all, but Nepeta couldn’t really blame her. Of course she would want to forget it all, even if only temporarily. Nepeta herself hadn’t dwelled too long on the consequences, so preoccupied was she with monitoring Kanaya, but they did worry her. Perhaps not to the extent that it worried Kanaya, but they did all the same. _Everything was ending._

 

Except them. That was the one shred of positivity she clinged on to – that she and her friend and those other three were going to survive. Maybe it was false hope, but they were going to continue on somehow, and perhaps find a way to get through it all. The whole ordeal was something she’d rather avoid, obviously – but it was going to happen regardless of any efforts she might make. Spending time and energy worrying over it would be a waste.

 

As she pulled up to Kanaya’s house, she expected her friend to have fallen asleep, but she found her eyes wide open still, staring out into the street ahead. As the car came to a stop, she spoke in a low, slurred mumble. “What’s even the point?”

 

Nepeta looked upon her with grave concern. “What?”

 

Kanaya looked at her, mouth hanging open. “It’s all _fucked,_ it’s all done. That’s it. Done.” She opened the door and stepped out onto the street, almost falling over. Her arms were spread out and her head was held high, but the street was thankfully very quiet, and Nepeta had time to realize what Kanaya’s intentions were and pull her away before any harm could come to her. Kanaya put up a great deal of resistance as she was dragged into her house.

 

Inside, Nepeta brought the still-struggling Kanaya upstairs, but as they approached her bedroom she managed to deliver a forceful shove, pushing Nepeta back against the wall. The air was filled with incoherent mumblings of protest as Nepeta tried to get ahold again, but Kanaya was flailing and objecting so violently that it was difficult to reaffirm a grip.

 

Nepeta backed off again, and for a moment there was relative peace as the two stared at one another, silent but for Kanaya’s heavy breathing. Maybe Kanaya was finally done. As Nepeta approached, though, a frustrated grunt sounded out and a balled fist flew forward, striking Nepeta directly in the nose.

 

Stumbling back and falling against the wall, Nepeta held her hands to her face, feeling the warm slickness of what blood had begun to flow out run through her fingers and trail downwards. The pain wasn’t unbearable – she’d been in scraps that had resulted in far worse – but she was nonetheless stunned, both from the pain itself and the suddenness of the attack. She’d never known Kanaya to lash out on other people – but she’d also never seen her in such a state before.

 

After the ringing in her head had died down somewhat, she removed her hands from her face. They were for the most part dyed red, as were the hems of her sleeves and her shirt. As the image in front of her came into focus, she saw that Kanaya was sat upon the top stair, head against the wall. It looked like all the fight had been taken out of her – she was still, almost limp-looking. Her eyes looked down, at nothing in particular.

 

Nepeta stood herself up, still slightly disoriented, and then stumbled towards Kanaya, setting herself back down next to her; Kanaya didn’t even acknowledge her. Nepeta stared at her, unsure of what to say. She wasn’t angry at her so much as frustrated with everything.

 

After a long gap of uncomfortable silence, Kanaya slowly turned her head towards Nepeta. “You’re just… getting on with your life, living it really happily, enjoying it, looking forward to everything, when suddenly…” She spoke in a slow, deliberate pace, one that masked how exasperated Nepeta knew she was. “Suddenly everything falls apart. Just up and goes away. And you're left to pick up all the pieces. You’re just… just getting ready to move on, you’re just getting better, and then it all happens again, worse this time. It’s just…” She couldn’t find the words, and her head hung low, defeated. Nepeta lacked a response, and so instead brought her arms around Kanaya, offering her the smallest of comforting gestures.

 

Kanaya made no move to return the hug, nor did she seem particularly vexed by it. After a few seconds, she slipped away from Nepeta and moved to her bed without resistance. She seemed to have drifted off by the time Nepeta had left the room. Moving downstairs and glancing in a hallway mirror, she surveyed the damage. It was nothing too severe – care and patience would fix it quickly enough – but it was messy all the same.

 

After tossing aside the blazer and washing her face and hands, Nepeta set herself down on Kanaya’s sofa. She’d decided to stay the night over to look over Kanaya, whose actions and words didn’t sit well with Nepeta. Lying down, she found herself falling asleep rather easily, only facing minor resistance from the fading sting from the strike she’d taken.

 

A shaking awoke her. As her eyes opened and the bright light of day blinded her, the pain from her nose let her know she was lucid. The first thing she saw was Kanaya looming over her. She looked rough. Nepeta sat herself up, Kanaya setting herself next to her as Nepeta had the night before. The smell was dimmed slightly, but Nepeta caught the scent of coffee in the air.

 

“I’m sorry.” Kanaya held her hands together, holding them under her chin. “I really, really am.”

 

Nepeta grinned, unable to hold back a slight laugh. “Don’t worry about it, alright? I get it.”

 

Kanaya seemed unsatisfied with that answer. “That doesn’t mean I get to take it out on you.”

 

With a shrug, Nepeta stood herself up, stretching. “Well, you did. No changing that now, right? Don’t think on it too much. Doesn’t even hurt too bad – you know I’ve taken worse.” That at least seemed to elicit the smallest of smiles from Kanaya. “You… feeling any better?” She was hesitant to ask the question, truth be told. She didn’t believe Kanaya’s worries would just vanish overnight.

 

“A little, I suppose. Nothing terribly significant. But… it’s like you just said – things aren’t going to change. I don’t have to be happy about it, but I’m going to have to deal with it one way or another.”

 

That put some of Nepeta’s fears to rest. She sensed Kanaya was hiding some deeper apprehension, but for the time being she didn’t see anything that could be done about it. “It is what it is, right? When the time comes, it’ll come.”

 

Kanaya nodded lazily. “I should probably get you a new shirt.”

 

“Hey, don’t worry about that. It’s still probably the cleanest shirt I own.” Grinning, she took a look outside. It was a very pretty day. “You’re gonna be alright, then?”

 

“As I can be.”

 

It wasn’t the ideal answer, but it was hardly an ideal situation. “In that case, I’m gonna head out now, if that’s fine with you. Talk to you soon, though.”

 

Kanaya stood and joined her admiring the view outside. “Yes, that sounds fine. I’ll see you soon, then.” Nepeta gave her a pat on the shoulder and nodded, picking up her coat and walking to the door.

 

Stepping outside, the breeze was very gentle and warm. As she began to make her way down the street, though, it rapidly gained energy, turning into a gale within seconds, battering against her body. Quickly as it began, though, it subsided. For a moment, Nepeta thought this some natural anomaly, until she felt a small pricking against her chest. Two pieces of familiar card fell to the ground below her. She prayed it was just coincidence, that it was just something that was discarded by someone else, but the print told a different story:

 

_Looks like time’s up already! Better get here fast!_


End file.
